One potato, two potato

Nairn eyed the other man; designated: threat. There was something about him that didn't sit right with the assassin. So, as he finally packed the book and another up into a bag at his side, he waved a hand over his shoulder.

What'd you say your name was? I'll tell my wife I've met you. He wondered what was so generous about Megara allowing a displaced clan in Arlathan, when that was the city's purpose.

Tick. Tick. T-t-tick. The familiar ticking of a heart unmade reached his ears, and he sighed under his breath. He'd need to get it looked at, preferably before his wife noticed the stutter.

@Kellam Yoesif